Her hips slammed upward against me, driving her cunt deeper into my face which I welcomed fully. Velvety walls — softer, more giving, yet fiercely hungry after so many starving years — fluttered and rippled wildly around my spearing tongue, hot, slick, convulsing in frantic contractions that tried to drag me inside.
That deep, heady musk intensified as more cream poured — salty-sweet-ripe, coating my tongue, my lips, the roof of my mouth; every swallow pulled another wave of her mature essence down my throat, thick enough to feel it slide slow and warm.
Her clit throbbed violently against the flat of my tongue — swollen, hypersensitive, jumping with every brutal pull of suction.
I didn't relent.
